Aisha was surprised, and perhaps to give herself a little more time to think, she sighed and said, “God have mercy upon Hagg Abd el-Aziz, the best of all men.”
This formula startled Umm Said somewhat. “If it is to happen,” she continued, “it will be without any celebrations. No ululations, no guests and no white dress.”
Umm Said was certain that Aisha would refuse this condition. Every mother in the world wants to celebrate on her daughter’s wedding day, so how could Aisha agree to marry off her only daughter with no fuss or fanfare? Umm Said looked at Aisha expectantly and slightly defiant. “So what do you say?”
Aisha wiped the palms of her hand across her face, a reflex of hers when she was worked up about something. Then she looked back at Umm Said, who was still seated, and uttered the following words, enunciating slowly, “Let us pray for him who intercedes on your behalf, Umm Said.”
“Prayers and greetings upon the Prophet Muhammad.”
“Listen, Umm Said. I’ll tell you something you will never forget.”
19
James Wright was sitting in his office going over the Club budget. He was completely immersed in the numbers in the large ledger that lay open in front of him, when he suddenly became aware of the voice of Khalil the office clerk.
“Alku is outside and he wants to come in and see you, sir.”
Wright looked at him in disbelief. “Why hasn’t he made an appointment?”
“He says that the matter cannot wait.”
Wright thought a little and then gestured at Khalil to show him in. In a matter of seconds, there was Alku standing in the middle of the office in all his full height. “I’m so sorry to have come without an appointment, but it’s rather pressing.”
“Has a new world war broken out?” Wright asked him.
Alku ignored the sarcasm and continued with the same urgency, “Mr. Wright, I am not leaving here until you have taken a decision to restore order.”
“You’ve come to tell me what I have to do?”
Alku bowed. “I’m so sorry,” he said submissively, “but something rather serious is going on.”
“Good Lord!”
“Abdoun is inciting the staff against the Club management.”
“How do you know that?”
“I have eyes everywhere.”
Wright cleared his throat and, to give himself some time to think, started cleaning his pipe. He then packed it with tobacco and lit it, and after a long while, he said calmly, “Every day you concoct new problems to get me to fire Abdoun. You have to understand that I will not fire him.”
“Mr. Wright,” Alku responded in his most ingratiating tone, “Abdoun has said some things that are unacceptable.”
“Such as?”
“He claims that we killed Abd el-Aziz Gaafar just because we gave him a slapping and that he died from the humiliation. He said that we treat the staff like dogs and urged them to complain to me about their treatment.”
“And has anyone come to see you?”
“None of them would dare.”
“So what’s the problem?”
Alku looked at him with incredulity. Then he pulled himself together, saying, “Abdoun needs to be punished for what he said.”
“I shall not punish anyone for having whispered something to his colleagues.”
“I can provide ten witnesses to what he said.”
“And Abdoun would produce ten saying the contrary, and then there would be no time for work because we’d be investigating every scurrilous rumor. I don’t see the profit of that.”
“If we don’t punish Abdoun immediately, all the staff will turn against us.”
Wright sighed, evidently at the end of his tether. He looked at Alku and said, “Listen. You are the head of the staff. You should be above all these trivial matters. Pay no attention to the chatter that goes on behind your back. If someone says to your face something you don’t like, then punish him, but as to all the whispering that goes on among the servants…spare yourself.”
“What they say today behind my back, they’ll say in front of me tomorrow.”
“You are blowing it out of proportion.”
“Mr. Wright, I have spent my whole life dealing with servants, and I know them very well. They only work diligently if they are afraid. And they are only afraid if they feel that at any moment they can be punished, whether on justifiable grounds or not! If a man of the serving class has confidence in himself and his capabilities, if he thinks he can seek justice, if he feels that he has rights, he will rebel immediately. Justice only corrupts because if you have become accustomed to being treated badly, you cannot understand justice. If you give a servant any respect, he will misbehave. Respect is a difficult concept for a servant because he considers it a form of weakness. No matter how much a servant might complain about the harsh treatment he receives from his master, he can understand the reason for it and he respects it.”
“Rest assured,” Wright said, having exhaled a cloud of smoke from his pipe. “There is not going to be any rebellion. Keep an eye on the situation and keep me updated.”
Alku was on the point of objecting, but Wright went back to reading the ledger. That was a sign that the meeting had ended.
As etiquette dictated, Alku bowed and asked, “Anything else I can do, sir?”
“No.”
Alku left Wright gazing at his numbers. He was so distracted that after a few minutes, he could no longer take in what he was reading. He got up and told Khalil that he was not to be disturbed and then locked the door from the inside. Except for a glass of wine with lunch, Wright never drank during office hours. But in his office he kept a bottle of whiskey for guests from which, over the course of a year, only a few glasses had been drunk. Now, however, he felt the pressing need for a drink. The first gulp unleashed all his anxieties. Good Lord, what had let all these genies out of the bottle? He felt cursed. Why was everything conspiring against him? Imagine, his daughter turning down an invitation from the king. How many girls in the world would think of doing that? It was just more of Mitsy’s endless objectionable behavior, and as usual her aim was to provoke him. No more, no less. Had he ordered her to turn the invitation down, she would have insisted on going. What could explain her great joy in being contrary? What had he done to make his daughter dislike him so much, and why was he facing one crisis after another? What was going on in the Club? Abdoun was just an ordinary worker, an insignificant insect under ordinary circumstances. He had given him the position as a favor to Odette. And now Abdoun was trying to incite his colleagues to rebellion? Wright smiled at the irony. He went over his conversation with Alku and felt depressed. Alku was right. What Abdoun had said could only corrupt the serving staff, and under normal circumstances, he would have been fired immediately for much less. Wright took another sip of whiskey.
“Why did I overrule Alku?” he mused. “Why did I say the opposite of what I believe? Am I so afraid of upsetting Odette? How could I have fallen so low? An old dodderer who lies to keep his young lady happy?”
He poured himself another whiskey and sat down, stretched out his legs and took a large gulp, feeling its warmth spread through him. How had Odette managed to make him so subservient? Now he spent his days just waiting to meet her. His normal life, his time in the office and at home, even meetings at the Club, were all passed in anticipation of his meetings with Odette, which now seemed like his real life. Everything else was dull and unreal. The shame of it. Had his desire made him forget his honor? He finished his third whiskey and told himself, “I am an old man and might die at any moment. I have to keep my honor. My relationship with Odette may be sinful, but what I did to Alku is a grave error. Being unfaithful to my wife harms no one except her, but lying and going against my better instincts for the sake of my own desire is a complete and utter abdication of morals.”
The alcohol only sharpened his feelings of dissatisfaction. He left the Automobile Club and went for lunch at the Gezira Club. After anoth
er glass of whiskey, he could contain himself no longer. He telephoned Odette and asked her if he could come and see her immediately. Her voice was guarded, as if she had been expecting his call. They agreed to meet an hour later at the apartment.
He had another glass, paid the bill and whiled away the hour pacing the streets of Zamalek. At the appointed time, he went up to the apartment, and the moment he had let himself in, she appeared in front of him, and he hugged her. Odette laughed. She stretched her leg out behind her and kicked the door shut. They kissed for a long time, and the heat from her body made the blood flow uncontrollably in his veins. He held her tight, covering her face and neck with kisses, but she pushed him away gently.
“What is it you wanted to see me about so urgently?” she asked affectionately.
“I’ll tell you later.”
“I want to know now.”
He moved away from her and slowly poured two glasses of whiskey as he pondered how to begin. He gave her a glass and sat down on the chair facing the door. “You know how much I love you.”
She nodded and smiled.
“You asked me to give Abdoun a job at the Automobile Club,” he went on. “And I did it because you asked.”
Odette took a sip from her glass and lit a cigarette. “I’m deeply grateful for that.”
“Abdoun has been causing some problems.”
“What awful thing has he done? Has he killed someone in your great club?”
“He is inciting the staff against us.”
“What a heinous crime. Why don’t you throw him to the hungry lions as the Roman emperors did to those who annoyed them?”
“Please don’t be so sarcastic. I need your help.”
“What do you want me to do?”
Wright hesitated a little and then said quietly, “Odette, you have to make Abdoun understand that he can’t shoot off his mouth.”
“What did he say?”
“He’s demanding an end to corporal punishment.”
Odette looked at him in shock and shouted, “Corporal punishment? You mean you have your underlings beaten?”
“I don’t.”
“Then who does?”
“The overall head of the staff. He orders the punishments.”
“And you find that acceptable?”
“Oh, please stop it!”
“Even if you don’t participate in that crime yourself, you’re just as guilty.”
“It’s not a crime.”
“If you beat an underling in Britain, you’d be tried in court and sent to prison.”
Wright tut-tutted and said, “We are not in Britain, Odette. Your problem is that you live in cloud-cuckoo-land. You are incapable of seeing reality. I’ve already told you that Egyptians are different from Westerners.”
“So you think that a British worker deserves to be treated decently whereas an Egyptian needs to be beaten?”
Wright sat in silence. He downed his drink in one gulp, and the blood rushed to his face as Odette became more worked up and shouted at him, “Answer me!”
“What can I say?”
“Do you not think that all men have equal rights?”
“Everyone is entitled to the same rights, but their understanding of rights is different.”
“Don’t play around with words. Go ahead and tell me your honest opinion: Should Egyptians be subjected to more humiliating treatment than British people?”
“Yes. That’s what I think!” Wright, now red in the face, barked. He went over to the window, and turning his back to Odette, he shouted, “I’ve had enough of your lectures. Listen to me and you’ll understand once and for all. Egyptians are stupid, lazy liars. If you don’t like my opinion, then I’m sorry. I am the general manager of the Automobile Club, and a member of staff I appointed as a favor to you is causing problems with his colleagues. Tell him to keep his trap shut and not to stick his nose into other people’s business. Tell him that the Club rules will never change. Any servant found wanting will be dealt with severely.”
Wright rattled off this whole speech looking out of the window. When he turned around, Odette had already picked up her handbag and was heading for the door. Wright sprang after her and grabbed her by the arm, but she pulled away.
“Leave me alone.”
“Odette, please listen.”
“How can I be involved with a racist like you? I don’t understand how I agreed to it in the first place. Fire Abdoun or beat him. Do what you want. I don’t care. But you’ll never see me again.”
He tried to hold on to her, but she wriggled out of his grip and slammed the door behind her. Sinking into the chair, Wright felt dizzy. He’d had a lot to drink and felt overwhelmed by the events of the day. And now Odette had stormed out on him just because he objected to Abdoun’s behavior. Who was this Abdoun that he could so affect Odette? Why was she so worked up over a menial? A thought he had long been trying to suppress came back to him. What sort of relationship did they have with each other anyway? Was this Negro bedding her and giving her so much satisfaction that she did not need another lover? He was even younger than Odette by several years!
Wright could not completely dispel his anxieties. An affair between Abdoun and Odette seemed improbable, but experience had taught him to not discount the implausible. Abdoun was a handsome young man, and some women are attracted to their social inferiors. They lust for servants, drivers and waiters just as some men run after maids and cooks. He shut his eyes and leaned back in the chair, a bitter taste in his mouth. Why had Odette run out on him? He had longed to go to bed with her, even if just one last time. But his feelings were mixed. He loved her but resented her too. He adored her but hated the weakness she made him show. Sometimes he regretted not having met her when he was younger so that he could have married her and spent his life with her, but other times he wished he had never met her. Thinking back to their last conversation, he wondered, “How could she speak to me so haughtily? Does she think I have no dignity? That she thinks she won’t lose me no matter what she says or does. She may have led other lovers by the nose, but I’m a different kettle of fish.”
The alcohol was making Wright bolder. “It’s time I behaved like a man. If Odette doesn’t want me, I won’t be begging her. I won’t die if she leaves me. To hell with it all.”
He had not behaved badly toward her. It was she who had flared up for no reason. If she expected him to run after her, she was delusional. He resolved not to call her again.
He went home feeling better for his resolve. The following day he went to work as usual. He tried to focus on his work, but it was no use. He could not help but think of Odette, seeing and hearing her in a hundred different settings. He could feel the warmth of her body melt him away.
“Naturally, it’ll take me a little time to get over her,” he told himself.
That evening, as he was sipping a whiskey at the Club bar, he started thinking it over. Had it been worth having that argument with Odette? Hadn’t he shown her too much wrath? Even if he was in the right, even if he had decided to break it off with her, wasn’t it wrong simply to drop out of her life? Wasn’t that a childish way to react? Why not call her and dump her as she had dumped him, making her see her stubbornness and his rectitude? If he could just have a few words with her, she would regret her actions, and that would be worth the effort. He decided to call her, not because he missed her but simply to apprise her of his decision. It would be a lesson she would never forget. He would dent her illusions in just a few words, giving her to understand her rash stupidity. Then he would simply put the receiver down.
He picked up the telephone and asked for the number, and the moment he heard her voice, he said, “Odette.”
“What do you want?”
“I’ve been thinking about what you said. I think that you’re right. We should end it.”
“Good.”
She said the word calmly and hung up. He was stunned. He had expected her to say more, to get angry and start a quarrel. Then h
e would have told her how wrong she had been, and she would have told him her side of the argument, but she had not even given him a chance. He was befuddled completely. After another glass of whiskey, he called again, but this time she did not answer. Frantic now, he tried to call her again, holding the receiver to his ear until the ringing tone cut off, then hanging up and trying again. He went back to his seat in the bar and drank another glass, asked for the bill and tried to steady himself. He had drunk too much. He got in his car, and half an hour later he was standing in front of her apartment. He rang the bell a few times. Finally, the door opened. He moved forward, and she stepped back to let him in. She closed the door behind him, and in a voice that seemed to come from someone else, he said, “Odette, I’m so sorry for the way I behaved yesterday. Please forgive me. Don’t leave me. I love you.”
20
Even if Mahmud Gaafar did have difficulty understanding things and could not express himself clearly, he still had feelings the same as everyone else. The death of his father had been a great shock to him. He had cried like a child all the way to the cemetery. He missed his father’s gentle love and his patience with Mahmud’s repeated failures at school. He no longer remembered those two times when he had done something so stupid that his father had thrashed him, recalling only his father’s disappointed affection. Mahmud felt lost, as if his life’s mainstay had gone. His grief over his father was heartfelt, though he still used it as an excuse to skip school. At the start, his mother thought this was a natural response, but after he’d been two weeks at home, she brought him breakfast in bed, then kissed him on the forehead with a doleful look and said, “Death has come upon us, son, but you have got to go back to school and work hard to try to achieve what your late father wanted for you. He wanted to see you finish school.”
Mahmud sighed, looked downcast and answered, “How can you think about school, Mother? At a time like this. I couldn’t cope with it.”